


Why Aren't You Here With Me

by verucasalt123



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comment Fic, Loneliness, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Sam In Panties, Sibling Incest, Slash, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:52:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/pseuds/verucasalt123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So there was that time that Dean stole one of his hookup's panties, only so he could give them to Sam to wear. </p>
<p>Sometimes, when Sam's missing his brother particularly much, he'll put them on and climb into his dormroom bed. They don't really scratch the itch, but they still feel damn good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Aren't You Here With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lavishsqualor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavishsqualor/gifts).



Sam knew the panties belonged to some random girl Dean had fucked in the backseat of the car. It made him a little bit mad, but not mad enough that he didn't put them on for his brother when he asked. 

They were white and lacy and had little skulls and crossbones all over them. And of course, they didn't fit Sam, but Dean didn't really care, he just liked to see them on him before he pulled them down, not all the way off, just enough so he could get his mouth around Sam's cock, keeping one hand around the lace of the panties.

Sam hadn't taken much with him when he left for Stanford. Not that he had much to take - a few items of clothing (all he had), some books, a couple of CDs, and those. That lacy white pair of panties with the skulls.

Most of the time, Sam was all right. Like, as all right as he could possibly be after leaving behind his family, striking out on his own, breaking his brother's heart into a thousand pieces. 

But sometimes...sometimes, he wasn't all right. 

And those times, instead of calling Dean (he could have, he knew it), he just waited until he knew he'd have some time alone. He'd make sure his roommate was gone for the night, and he'd dig into the very bottom of his top drawer, underneath his socks and undershirts and boxer-briefs, to find that lace. 

He'd take off all his clothes and, with trembling fingers, pull on those sweet, tiny, white lace panties; his cock hard and half-sticking out above the top of them.

Sam would lie in his shitty dorm-room bed, staring up at the ceiling, willing himself not to call Dean, not to tell him how much he missed him, not to beg him to come to California right the fuck now. He'd wait as long as he possibly could, until the need was unbearable, until his dick was so hard that it hurt, just from the feel of the silk and lace, the memories...until it was too fucking much so he touched himself and made himself come and what the fuck, Dean, God, Dean, why the hell aren't you here with me?

Why? Why aren't you here with me? every time Sam spilled over his own hand. 

Why aren't you here with me?


End file.
